


And I Can't Save What's Left Of You

by ArvenaPeredhel



Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace, Star Wars Legends: Jedi Apprentice Series - Jude Watson & Dave Wolverton, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Gen, Qui-Gon is already dead but he's technically in this story, hence the tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 14:39:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14896446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArvenaPeredhel/pseuds/ArvenaPeredhel
Summary: Shutting the door on childhood is a messy, complicated process.





	And I Can't Save What's Left Of You

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Untitled Fanart](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/388350) by Alex/Blinkstep. 



> Thanks to the lovely Discord server I'm a part of. This one's for all of you.

I couldn't just _leave_ him there.

I sat with him as long as I dared, feeling the warmth seep out from his body, feeling him go utterly limp in my arms. If I stayed long enough, I knew rigor mortis would set in. I didn't care, losing minutes upon minutes to my grief.

If I could, I would have stayed there forever.

But there was a war to end, and I had experience with that - more experience, probably, than any of the Queen's vaunted political advisors. Certainly more experience than she had herself. In the absence of anyone more qualified, the negotiations would fall to me, at least until there was someone else to take up the mantle of leadership. Mantle of leadership. Ha. Like the robes he wore? Well, I knew where that had led. _What do I do_ now, _Master? I can't be you. You were always the better negotiator. You had a way of annoying everyone to a point where they couldn't help but agree simply to get you to stop talking. And when you decided you were done talking..._

I wondered if this profound sense of loss was wrong for me. I was a Jedi, after all. Attachment was forbidden, or so they told me. But Qui-Gon had loved, and loved fiercely, and yet he had been great enough to be offered a seat on the Council. Tears filled my eyes again as I fell back on an old childhood daydream of what he would be like as a true Master, and I found myself falling back onto his chest and sobbing again. The lost potential of his future was potent in the air.

_And what of your future?_ I thought to myself bitterly. _He made it very clear what he wanted of you, Obi-Wan, are you going to do it?_ But I couldn't think about that, not now, not when he had died in front of me, in my arms, without ever saying a proper goodbye. And try as I might I couldn't forgive him for it - Jedi didn't die like this. Not anymore. The Sith were extinct. I should never have had to watch him be cut down by someone who deserved to be my brother. A fellow Knight, not trained and twisted into dark mockery.

But I did. I had seen that. And I had defended myself and slain his killer, and the galaxy would never be the same.

Absently I wondered how the battle was going in the rest of Theed. I tried to sense it out with frayed nerves, but it was useless. With my bond ripped out at the roots I was almost blind.  _Perhaps this is how most sentients live their lives_ , I thought, and shuddered and shoved that away. But my dulled senses had decided for me: I could not sit here in silence with his body in my arms. I had to go, to get up and trudge back through the barriers and shut the doors behind me, shut away that part of my life where I was not utterly alone.

It was selfish of me, but I couldn't - _wouldn't_ \- leave him back there.

The first thing I realized as I picked him up was that he was heavier than I was. The heaviest thing I'd ever lifted, probably. Definitely greater than the weights I'd trained with back home.  _Obviously_ , I thought,  _he's a grown man and far taller than you even now_ _, what did you expect?_   I couldn't sustain the bitterness for long, though, feeling it crumble and give way to burned-out ash in my chest. I thought of using the Force to make things easier - _no. Do this yourself, Kenobi, or don't do it at all._ If I could not bring my Master out of the place where he had died I did not deserve to ever be called a Knight.

I tried to gather him up in my arms and hold him to my chest, but he was far too tall for me to carry him that way, all arms and legs spilling out beyond my grasp. Muttering a low curse, I set him back down on the floor and tried to sling his body over one shoulder in a soldier's carry, but no sooner had I stood than my knees gave out from under me. I had fought a battle unlike anything I'd ever faced before. My strength was nearly exhausted. In bitter frustration I set him down, letting him lie on the floor.  _If I can't carry him, what then?_

Bending down again, I grasped his wrist, forcing his fingers to close around my own. I hoped I wouldn't have to break his bones to get him to let go. But this at least was easy, dragging him behind me, holding his hand, even now unwilling to let go. I took a few steps, reaching the first barrier; once it had turned I trudged into the gap and waited for the cycle to reset. I was weak and even this was slow going - 

\- and undignified. He had loved me, and sheltered me, and cared for me. He deserved more than an ungraceful skidding slide along the polished floor still stained with a few drops of his blood. I dropped his hand with a faint cry and knelt beside him, fighting in vain to keep the tears from blinding me. After his last words to me I had cried until my whole body was sore and aching, but now it seemed I had more weeping to do. His fingers were fast around my wrist, and I clung to them as I wept.

_Not now,_ I pleaded, both to myself and to the Force. _Not now._

At last I was a little calmer, and I tried to stand up, but by now rigor had set in and his hand was clinging to me. The weight was unexpected and nearly pulled me over. I swore again, wiping away yet more tears. I refused to break his bones to free myself; that was a line I would not cross, not even now after I had truly properly killed. There was only one more option.

I lifted him by the arms, shifting so he was behind me, draping him over my shoulders like a cloak. Standing was easier that way. With a little effort, I could turn my hand in his grasp, letting him hold on to me as I held on to him. The beam cycle had reset as I positioned myself, and I made my way down the hall as quickly as I could.

His robes still smelled like him. It was almost as if he were alive and merely unconscious.

Almost.

At first I faltered, slipping on the damned floor, bruising both knees and wishing over and over again that someone, _anyone,_ could have found us, but soon I found my stride. I cried as I walked, but I didn't bother wiping my face, focusing on shrinking the distance between us and the main door one step at a time. He practically raised me. He deserved to be wept over. He deserved to die well, not murdered by someone whose name I still didn't know. In that moment I knew none of us would get what we deserved.

Thought and feeling and pain merged into dizzy willpower - every step was taken because I had no choice but to take it - and I wondered absently what Trial of Knighthood the Masters could possibly concoct that was worse than this one. I had faced a Sith and had not fallen. I had been victorious in battle. And I had faced my greatest fear.

Whether or not I had conquered it remained to be seen.

Another door, this one not crackling with energy, and then darkness and blessedly cool air. I could dimly see figures moving and ships landing - _Naboo pilots,_ I thought, recognizing their uniforms - and suddenly I was surrounded on all sides.

"Master Jedi!" someone cried. There was a long pause, and then another voice called out "Oh, gods and generals, get that doctor back in here!"

_I'm not hurt_ , I tried to say, but the words died in my throat. Yes, I was hurt, and there was no denying it.

And then, suddenly, another voice, one I had been dreading.

"Master Qui-Gon! What happened!"

_Anakin,_ I thought, weeping again. _Anakin, I'm sorry, we dragged you all the way out here for nothing..._

My knees were giving out before I could stop them. I hit the floor, darkness at last closing over me, every voice fading to a pale whisper. 

The last thing I felt before unconsciousness took me was Qui-Gon's hand still around my wrist.


End file.
